Blame it on the changes
by Caazzie
Summary: Another story about Dean and Sophia. This one will contain one-shots from the day they met until the first chapter in Life is complicated. R
1. I will find you again

**New story about Dean and Sophia. **  
**I'm not sure I'm going to continue to write **Everything you ever wanted,** but those of you who read it will get more information in the next chapter. **  
**So, basically, this is just some short memories from their past until they realized they loved each other. **

**I own nothing, except for Sophia and this twist. **

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**DEAN**

Another state. Another town. Another motel.

Same car. Same people. Same story.

Just another ghost to hunt.

And of course, Dad wouldn't let us go with him. So I had to drag Sammy with me.

Sure, he's my brother, and I love him, but he's a real pain in the ass sometimes.

Thirteen and stubborn.

"C'mon!"

"But I don't want to! Can't we just go back to the motel?" he complained.

"Sam, I don't want to sit in a damn motel room all day. We just got here, and Dad won't be back until God knows when. So just, come on," I told him and started to walk again. I didn't care if he followed or not. If he went back to the motel, that was his decision. But I wouldn't be sitting there, doing nothing. It's April, and it's a nice day. Besides, we would be staying here for a week or so, so why not check the town out?

Thank god we wouldn't go to school here.

It was just a normal ghost, and the only thing that would take time was finding out who it was. If Dad would just let me help, we would get away from this place in just a few days.

But no, for once Dad wouldn't let me help him. Sam was old enough to be alone, and I mean, Dad had been training us since forever. Hunting was the only thing I knew. So why wouldn't he let me help him?

I heard Sammy walking faster behind me, and a few seconds later he was by my side. He didn't say anything though. Fine by me. Silence is good. Sure, it's nice to talk to people but it's not like I can make friends. It's not like I can tell people who I really am. I couldn't even remember the last time I used my real last name. Or first name for that matter.

This really was a small town, and it only took us five minutes to reach the middle of town.

Most people walking the streets were teenagers. Sam's age. My age.

I glanced at my clock. No wonder there was so many teens. School was ending for today.

I had no idea of where we were going, so I followed the people. And had to stop at a street, waiting for the cars to pass.

It was just plain luck that I saw the blond guy walking up to a short, black haired girl. And it was even more luck that my eyes lingered on the two, so I saw him making the move. He was going to push her out into the street. What the hell?

Instincts as both a hunter and a human being kicked in, and I reached for the girl. She wasn't that far away from me, so I only had to take a few long paces before I reached her. The guy had already pushed her when I grabbed for her wrist, and I pulled her into my chest the same second a car drove by where she would have landed.

Plain luck she wasn't dead by now.

Before I let her go, I searched for the guy but couldn't see him anywhere. He was gone. Like he had planned on doing this. Weird. More than that.

I let her wrist go, and moved the arm from the small of her back as she took a step backward and looked up at me.

"Thank you." Her voice was shaky, but her brown eyes were steady, looking up into mine.

She had thick black eyelashes that framed her eyes, and her face was framed by her thick black hair. She wasn't wearing any make-up to the pair of jeans and long sleeved, tight u-neck shirt she was wearing. Despite that, she was cute. Not something I would go for, but cute. With make-up, she would probably be beautiful.

"No problem," I said as she fixed the bag hanging over her shoulder.

"I'm Sophia Gordon," she said, never breaking our gaze. By now, I should have thought it was uncomfortable meeting someone's eyes for so long. But for some reason, it wasn't. Why was that?

"Dean Winchester," I said, not caring about the glare I felt in the back from Sam. Yeah, I know I'm not supposed to say my real name. Deal with it.

But I felt like I could tell her. Like my name was safe with her.

I'd never felt that before.

I was trained to lie. Trained to never tell the truth.

"I've never seen you before. New in town?"

"Passing through," I answered her, smiling down toward her. It was easy to smile with her. And she had a nice smile. And now when she smiled I could see it. Even without the make-up, she was beautiful. A smile could do a lot to people.

"I don't have anything to do, wanna grab a coffee?" she asked, and I was impressed by her courage. Not anyone would ask that after just meeting someone. Okay, I sort of saved her life, but still.

Before I had the chance to answer her, I heard Sam clearing his throat. I had forgotten about him.

"Right, Sophia, this is my brother Sam."

She looked around my shoulder, looking at Sam. I didn't tear my eyes from her. Shouldn't she be going into shock right about now? I mean, she was almost pushed out in front of a car. If I hadn't been there, she would have been.

"Hi, Sam," she said, and then looked at me again. "So, what do you say? A coffee?"

"Sure. Know any good place in this town?"

I found myself interested in her, wanting to get to know her.

It was just something about those brown eyes that kept me curious.

"I know the perfect place," she said, smiled and started to walk. The three of us ended up walking in a row, Sophia in the middle and Sam and I on the sides. It wasn't a long walk, and we didn't have the time to talk so much before we reached the café.

I ordered a coffee and Sam took a coke.

He hadn't learned to like the taste yet.

Sophia ordered a black coffee, too. One thing we had in common.

"So, how did you get to town? Car, train, bus?" she asked as we walked outside again. I was ready to sit down at a table, but she continued to walk, and so did I. And Sam.

"Car," I said, not going into details. Just because I love the car, doesn't mean that a chick will even know what kind it is.

"Okay, let's see…" she trailed off, looking at me. "You're not the usual kind, so an older model maybe?"

Okay, good guess.

"67' Chevy Impala," I told her and watched with amusement as her eyes popped wide. Okay, maybe I was wrong. Maybe she knew a thing or two about cars.

"Shut up. You're lying, right?"

"No. Black and beautiful."

"I'm gonna steel those keys, y'know," she stated, turning around and walking backwards, looking straight at me.

"You can try," I offered, and she smiled smugly, turning around again. I had a feeling she would try if she had the chance.

We talked some more, and by the time we were at the place she was taking us my coffee was almost over.

It looked like a dock of some sort, but it was deserted, and there were no boats there. There was a good view over the ocean, though.

She walked down the bridge like it was something she did everyday. When she was by the edge, she took off her shoes and sat down, resting her feet right above the surface of the water.

"So, what are we doing here?" I asked, sitting down beside her.

"This is the place where I usually go where I want to think. Well, this place or the cemetery."

She looked out over the ocean so I couldn't see her expression. The cemetery? Why? I mean, dead people are rotting in the ground there.

"I'm sorry," Sam suddenly said. He had cached up on something I hadn't. But before I had the chance to think she talked.

"It's okay. Dad died when I was three, so I don't remember much about him."

Oh. Stupid, I thought, mentally hitting myself in the back of my head. I should have figured out someone had died when she said the cemetery was somewhere she went often.

A dead parent. That's two things we have in common.

Why am I even counting?

You tell me.

She looked sad, in a way. She looked like she had put it behind herself, and lived in the present, but she looked sad. Like she was thinking about him. She missed him.

I wanted to make her feel better. I couldn't understand why. I just met her.

"When I was four, our Mom died, too," I said. I wanted her to know she wasn't alone.

Seriously, I couldn't understand myself right now, but I followed my instincts.

"I'm sorry," she said, now looking even sadder. She cared about people. That made me want to know even more about her. Made me more curious.

So I changed the subject.

"So, Sophia Gordon, how old are you?" Despite her shortness, she didn't look so young. Younger than me definitely, but older than Sam. She had this maturity radiating from her, and it was impossible not to see.

"As of right now, I'm fifteen. What about you, Dean Winchester?"

Well, nice try changing the subject. Turning the direction from her to me. 'As of right now' meant now, so it was her birthday.

"Happy birthday," Sam and I said at the same time, and she rolled her eyes, making me chuckle. She didn't seem to like the attention.

"As for your question, I'm eighteen. And Sam's thirteen."

"Fourteen," he corrected me. Yeah, in like a month.

"In May," I said, and I heard Sophia chuckle.

"What?"

"No, it's just… I'm so used to this; it's amusing to watch it between others."

"You have brothers?"

"One older sister, and a younger brother, yes."

We continued talking after that, and I don't know how long we sat there.

But maybe an hour later she suddenly jolted up, grabbing her bag from the dock.

"Damn it, I'm late for work," she muttered as she did so. She had a job?

"You work?"

She looked at me, stopping in her movements.

"What? Is that so hard to believe?" she asked, and I didn't have to think for long.

"No, I guess not."

"Okay, you seem like a nice guy. Both of you do. But you're just passing through, so I'm going to leave it up to you. If you want to see me again, call me," she said, taking up a pen from her bag and grabbing my hand, writing a number on it.

I had to be impressed again. No one I had ever met would have done that.

"Maybe I'll see you around," she said and then both Sam and I watched her run away.

It was quiet for a moment while we watched her, and then Sam was first to speak.

"You gonna call her?"

"I don't know," I told him honestly.

What was the point? Yes, she was nice and probably someone I could get along with. But we're on the road all the time, and it's not like we're staying in one place for a long time. So why get to know someone you have to leave anyway? Getting to know her – or someone – would just mean I would miss her. Why complicate things?

"You think that's her real number?"

"I have no idea."

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**Let me know what you think. **  
**The next chapter will be up in a week or so. **


	2. This is where 'we' begin

**Really short this time. Anyway, it's from Soph's POV and I hope you'll like it. **

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I couldn't concentrate.

Not on math. Not on school. Not on anything.

I mean, I hit someone yesterday. It couldn't have hurt – I'm not strong - but still. I mean me, Sophia Gordon, hitting someone? That's just not... me.

And to top it off, I hit a guy. Twice my size. He didn't even flinch.

But he totally deserved it.

You just don't tell people that monsters are real. They're not. Right? I mean, that's _insane. _

And what's really insane is that he made sense.

It explained that missing piece of the puzzle named Dean Winchester.

Was that even his name?

It didn't made sense but at the same time it did and this was all very confusing.

I couldn't believe him – how could I?

But I did believe that there is a world outside of this one.

Ghost and stuff – that I believed in. I had always believed in that.

But monsters? The things he told me about? It couldn't be true. It just_ couldn't. _

So no, I wouldn't believe him. And I wouldn't think about him again. He was just some weird, random guy that I knew for a week. Not even that. It was a week today. And I stopped talking to him yesterday. Because he was lying.

But what if he wasn't?

He looked so serious when he told me about whatever he told me about.

He looked like he really did believe it himself. And like he really did those things. Like he fought monsters.

And so, maybe I should believe him?

It wasn't my thing to judge people. So why should I judge him after telling me one little thing? Okay, it wasn't little, but still... I shouldn't judge him. That wasn't me.

But it also wasn't me to hit people.

So yeah, this was all very confusing.

At least I could tell him I was sorry for hitting him.

Yes. That I could do. And that I would do.

_That _was me.

So right after school, I would walk to their motel and hope that they were still here.

And on the way there, I would think about what I would say.

And so, when that was decided, I wouldn't think about him until the school day was over.

But yet I found myself unable to stop thinking about him. And Sam.

And when I did walk to their motel, I had been thinking about them all day. And I started to believe what Dean had told me last night. Not_ believe_ believe, but I would at least give him another chance at explaining. And then I would make my decision whether or not I would believe him. Which I probably wouldn't.

I took a deep breath, and knocked on their door.

A few seconds later, it opened and Dean stood before me.

He looked shocked. And surprised.

He really didn't believe I would come back.

And he had a light shade of red right where I had slapped him.

Maybe it did hurt then.

I was glad I had decided to come – to say I was sorry for hitting him.

"I didn't think I would see you again."

"Trust me, neither did I," I told him and he looked at me with questioning eyes for a few moments.

"Hi," he said when I didn't explain my respone, and I found myself fighting back a smile. A small one, but still.

"Hi."


	3. A junior all over again

"I don't get it," Soph said and I shifted on the floor. Sleeping on the floor wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but Soph only had one spare madras and Sammy had snatched it right from my hands and refused to give it back. Soph said I could just take her bed, and she would sleep on the couch. Downstairs. No way. So I took the floor. We were all sleeping together. I hadn't seen her in months, and then it was just for a few hours. Sam and I agreed that we would sleep in her room. Not that Soph's mom knew that we would be talking a lot more than we would be sleeping.

"You don't get what?" Sam asked, and Soph sighed. I couldn't see her since the room was pitch black, and like I said, I was on the floor right below her bed. She would probably stomp on me tomorrow morning when she would step out of bed.

"How Dean is supposed to look like sixteen tomorrow."

"I'm not supposed to look like sixteen," I explained. "I'm supposed to be seventeen, but since we've been moving around a lot I have to be a junior." _Again,_ I added in my head.

"But wouldn't Sam have to be a Freshman in that case?"

"No, I'm smarter than Dean, so I don't have anything to catch up on."

"Shut up, smart-ass," I replied to Sam's smart-ass comment and I heard both him and Soph chuckle.

"You still don't look like seventeen, but okay. And it's going to be really weird being in the same class as you," Soph said. She was right. It would be weird. But a lot better than going to school somewhere else. And not in her class. But yes, it would be strange going to school in Friday Harbor.

"At least I know who to cheat off on if we get a test," I told her and heard her snort.

"Good luck," she answered me and Sam chuckled again.

We talked for another hou before we realized we should have been sleeping a long time ago. Or at least Soph and Sam.

When I woke up five hours later, it wasn't because Soph stomped on me. But she was awake. When I opened my eyes, I could see that Sam was still in deep sleep.

Soph was standing with her closet door opened, a pair of jeans on. She was picking out a shirt.

I closed my eyes to give her some privacy. This was the first time I had seen her without a shirt. She was standing with her back toward me, and she was wearing a bra, but still...

A moment later, when she tried to wake us up, I pretended to be sleeping. And when neither Sam or I moved, I heard Soph moving. And a few seconds later she was throwing a pillow at me.

"What the hell?" I asked, sitting up. Pretending to be newly awake.

"It's time for breakfast," she answered simply. "Now give me the pillow so I can wake Sam."

Instead of giving it to her, I threw it at Sammy. Hard.

"Dean!" he exclaimed, sitting up on his madras.

"That's for taking the madras last night," I told him, standing up and looking for my jeans. Soph shook her head in amusement, walking out of the room.

Sam and I both got dressed, and then walked downstairs. Everyone but Rob was sitting at the table. Soph's mom was already at work, so she wasn't sitting there either.

"That took you long enough," Soph said as we sat down.

"Don't wake me up with a pillow next time," I told her, and she laughed.

"Remind me to try with water then."

I didn't have time to answer her, because the second later Rob walked inside.

"What's wrong with you?" Tess asked. Rob was pretty much moping.

Both Sam and I listened as we ate. This would be normal family drama – which would be good for us.

"Jennifer broke up with me last night."

"Who is Jennifer?" Soph and Tess asked in unison, and I tried not to laugh. I barely managed.

"My girlfriend."

"Your ex," I corrected him, and I got a glare from all three of them.

"What? He just said she broke up with him, so it's his ex."

Tess returned to Rob, and Soph gave me another glare as she did so as well.


	4. Scarred for life

"Where is your mother?" the policeman asked.

"Out of town," I answered. "She's not home until tomorrow."

"And your father?" he continued.

"He died when I was three."

"Do you have anyone to call?" the nurse beside the man asked. I nodded, reaching my hand out, but whimpered when it stung in my ribs.

The nurse smiled apologetically and handed me the phone beside the bed.

"We'll leave you alone," she said, going out of the room.

"We're all done here, anyway. Someone will call as soon as possible," the police said and I nodded. He glanced at me, then at his partner, and then they left.

I dialed the number without thinking about it, and took a deep breath, ignoring the pain it caused.

I heard my sister's voice sooner than expected.

"Tess," I choked out, but I didn't have the time to say anything else before she started.

"Sophia, where the hell are you? You were supposed to be home like two hours ago. You promised you would look after Rob, and Dave and I have been together for a year! He's supposed to pick me up in ten minutes at _my _place. Not here. And I'm not even close to done!"

"Tess," I choked again, trying to make her shut up. "Yes, I know I was supposed to take care of Rob. But he's fifteen, and he can be alone for a few hours. And yes, I know you've called like a thousand times."

"Where are you? And if you're not here in ten minutes, you're dead."

"I'm at the hospital," I said, fighting against the sob in my throat.

"What are you doing at the hospital?" she asked, the anger replaced by worry.

"Pick me up, and I'll explain everything. It hurts to walk."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

I told her where to find me, and then hung up. How was I supposed to tell Tess and Rob about this? I couldn't even think about it myself. All I wanted to do was to take a shower. I felt dirty, and it felt like this dirt would never disappear. But I knew it was all in my head. That didn't help.

Before I had the time to stop myself, I was calling another number.

Don't pick up, don't pick up, don't...

"Tom," shit. "Sykes."

"Tom Sykes. Seriously?" I asked.

"Who is this?"

"Dean..."

I knew that he would hear that there was something wrong, but no way that I would tell him of what just happened. No way. God, why had I called him? Out of all the people I could have called, it had to be the only one who could see through my every move.

"Soph?"

"No, Wanda fucking Sykes. Who do you think it is, stupid?"

"What the hell, Soph?" he asked on the other end, and I felt the tears coming. I hadn't cried yet. Not since it happened. I had been at the hospital for an hour, and I hadn't shed a single tear. But now they were coming.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that," I choked out, wiping the tears away in vain. They kept coming, and I couldn't stop them.

"No need to cry about it," he answered me, and I heard the grin in his voice.

"That's not why," I told him, and heard a how the grin fell. He sighed before he said anything.

"Yeah, I figured. So, what happened?"

"Nothing, I don't even know why I called you."

"Talk," he commanded.

"I'm not going to talk, because nothing is wrong. Just... I shouldn't have called. I'm probably interrupting a hunt or something, so I'll talk to you later," I told him and hung up before he had the chance to say anything.

I knew I would talk if I continued to talk to him. He, and Sam, could always make me talk. And I liked that. I was comfortable enough to share everything with them. But not this. Not now. And probably not ever.

I put the phone away and tried to get up from the bed. It hurt to breathe, so imagine the pain it caused to actually stand up. It wasn't fun. And walking into the toilet wasn't either.

I closed my eyes as I stood in front of the mirror, not really wanting to see how I looked like. But I had to sooner or later, so I opened my eyes.

My right eye was swollen, and I doubted that it would stop turning bigger anytime soon. There was a few bruises on my face, but not that many. The first thing you saw was the swollen eye and the split lip. Yeah, that would hurt the next time I ate.

I wanted to change clothes, but I didn't have any new with me and so I stumbled out into the room again. And then out, and into the hallway. I was not staying here for any longer.

I checked myself out, and walked outside. I reached the entrance just in time to my sister to pull over with the car. She didn't even park it before she was outside.

I hushed her before she had the chance to say anything, and I climbed into the car.

We didn't say anything until we were home, and Tess wanted to know what had happened.

I told her I would tell her, but that I really needed a shower. She looked at me worriedly, but nodded.

It took me forever to walk the steps up the stairs, but I managed. I walked into my room where I picked up new clothes and then I walked into the bathroom. I made sure the door was locked before I carefully took my clothes off. The dried blood made it stuck on my skin, and it hurt to pull my shirt over my head. I threw the clothes I was wearing in a pile – I was going to throw it away. Although it was my favorite pair of jeans, I was never going to wear them again. No way.

I stepped in under the hot water, and stood there forever. It felt like my skin was burnt off when I was done, but I still felt dirty. But I knew that I could have stood there forever, and still felt dirty.

So after about an hour I turned the water off and wrapped a towel around myself.

Then I placed myself in front of the full-body mirror we had, and dropped the towel.

And I cried even more.

The bruises was covering pretty much my whole body.

My arms had marks after his rough hands, holding me back. Holding me in place.

There was a big, nasty bruise on the side of my hip where he had kicked me, with another one right under my left breast. I couldn't see a part of my body where I wasn't turning blue.

I even saw a couple of teethmarks.

The clothes I had taken was not good enough. I wrapped the towel around myself and sneaked into my room where I picked out other clothes. This time a long sleeved shirt, two sizes too big. I had stolen it from Sam, and I don't even think he knows about it. At least he hadn't said anything.

That boy is big. Only a year younger than me, but two sizes bigger. But then of course, Sam is so freaking tall. Even though Dean was shorter than Sam, his clothes was still way too big on me.

I stopped thinking about the Winchester brothers, and pulled on a pair of long legged pajama pants.

They belonged to Rob, also too big to really fit me.

But I really didn't feel like wearing my own clothes right now.

I pulled my hair up in a bun, but released it when I noticed another bruise on my neck. I dried my tears and walked downstairs, where both Tess and Rob sat in the kitchen.

They were both looking at me with concerned eyes when I sat down, wincing at the pain.

"What do you want to know?" I whispered, knowing I would not tell them everything. It was obvious that I had been beaten, but I would not tell them what else had been done. Taken.

"Who the hell did this to you?" Rob asked me as Tess asked if I had talked to the police.

I answered Tess' question first.

"Yes, I talked to them. And the answer to Rob's question..." I trailed off, collecting courage. "Trent."


	5. Fight back

"I'm sorry, Dean. But she's sleeping," Deb told me. "But I'll tell her you stopped by, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, backing and walking down from the steps.

Sleeping my ass. No way that Soph was sleeping. It wasn't even eight o'clock.

I made sure Deb had closed the door before I sneaked to the backside of the house, where Soph's bedroom window was. No way I was risking going inside the backdoor. That way Deb could see me.

And she sort of scared me sometimes. It wasn't in a 'I'm-gonna-kill-you' way. It was more like... the way I, when I was younger, imaged mom would have been. The way she would have been like if I did something. Or if Sam did something. From what I remember, and from what dad have told me, mom would have been scary. And so was Deb.

So I climbed up the wall to Soph's bedroom window. Luckily, it was opened enough for me to climb inside.

I was quiet as I did so, and I landed on the floor without a sound.

Soph was on the bed alright, but she wasn't sleeping. Her back was against me, so she didn't see me. She had no idea I was here.

Her hair was pulled up in a bun, and she was wearing a tank top and a pair of short shorts. I grimaced as I saw her. Man, that did not look good.

I hadn't seen her in a week, but the bruises covering her was...

Yeah, it didn't look good.

And they were everywhere. When I saw her on her birthday, I couldn't see this much of her skin. I mean, I had guessed more bruises were hiding under her clothes, but not this many. No where close to this many.

How could she even be walking? Standing? Lying down?

I had been hurt – more times than I could count – but not this much at the same time.

For Soph not to have broken down completely already... it just proved how strong she was. That's what I have always told her. But no, she wouldn't listen to me.

I pulled my jacket off, and heard it land on the floor with a thump. Not loud, but noticeable. Soph didn't notice.

So I walked over to her bed, and lay down.

That's when she noticed.

"Dean!" she exclaimed, hitting me on the arm as she turned around. "You have to stop scaring me like that!"

"How did you even know it was me?" I asked. She did say my name before she saw me.

"Who else would climb up my window and lie down beside me?"

"Sam?"

"He's not stupid enough to take the window way."

"Yes, he is," I told her as she sat up. She sat down indian style, picking on her nails.

"What are you doing here?"

"What? I can't come by?"

"Not the window way. Didn't mom say I didn't feel like seeing anyone?"

"Actually, she told me you were asleep," I sat up, taking her hand in mine. But she pulled it away, not meeting my eyes.

"I'm not comfortable..." she started, but I hushed her.

"You were comfortable enough to let me hug you the other day, but I can't take your hand?" How many times hadn't I hold her hand to comfort her? How many times hadn't Sam done it? And now she wasn't comfortable with it anymore? Screw that.

"He took my hand. That's how he pulled me into the alley," she whispered, still not looking at me. Her voice broke a few times more than it should.

"Soph, look at me," I told her, and when she didn't I gently grabbed her chin and made her look at me.

"You can't let this take you down, 'kay? I won't let it. Your family won't let it."

"The trials ended yesterday, but I still haven't told them. They don't know."

"Why haven't you told them?" I asked, even though I knew.

"Because they would look at me differently. I still see that pity in their eyes, and I can barely take that. What it I had told them he raped me too, huh? Then how wouldn't they look at me?"

At least not she could say the word. But they wouldn't look at her differently.

"You're stupid, you know that right?" I asked her, and saw a tear glimmer down her cheek. Wonderful, now I made her cry.

I had only seen her cry two times. It was a week ago, when she told me about the son of a bitch named Trent, who I still didn't know the last name on, but when I did... He was dead.

And she cried now. My fault this time. Perfect.

I reached my hand out, wanting her to take it. She was safe enough with me – she knew I would never do anything to hurt her. So she should be able to hold my hand. I didn't care if she wasn't able to hold any other hand, I just wanted her to be able to hold mine.

She looked at my hand for a long moment, wiping her tears away. Then she hesitantly reached her own hand out and carefully let it slide into mine. Good. She even squeezed it a little bit. Even better.

"Okay, come on," I said after a moment of silence. I waited until she let go of my hand before I got up from her bed.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, you are. So get dressed. And meet me downstairs in five minutes."

"I told you I'm not going anywhere," she said, meeting my eyes. I looked at her as I walked back to the window.

"Soph. Downstairs. Five minutes," I told her and climbed down. I hopped the last few steps, and walked to the front side of the house again. I sat down on the porch and waited.

Soph probably knew I would just go get her if she didn't show up. It would just save her time if she walked by herself.

Six and a half minutes later, she was standing on the porch beside me.

"Now what?" she asked, clearly annoyed to be outside. I doubted that she had since it happened. She was dressed in a long sleeved shirt, and a pair of sweatpants. Her hair was let out to cover the bruise she had on the side of her neck. But she knew she couldn't cover the ones on her face.

I reached my hand for her to take, but she leaned against my side and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. Then I started walking.

Unfortunately we had to walk through the middle of town to get where I wanted, and I could feel and see the eyes on Soph. So could Soph. I pulled her closer, a little scared to hurt her. But she showed no signs of pain, and let me pull her as close as I wanted.

"Where are we going?" she asked after ten minutes of walking and casual talking.

"The gym at school," I told her honestly.

"It's closed, and why?"

"A locked building won't stop me. And I'm teaching you how to fight."

She froze in her steps, pulling away from me. I knew exactly what the look she was giving me meant.

"No fighting about this. You're learning how to defend yourself, whether you like it or not."

"No, I'm not," she put her foot down. But there was nothing she could do, and she knew it. If I had taught her sooner, then she wouldn't have been in this situation.

"I'm not even strong," she said when I just looked at her.

"That doesn't matter. And yes you are. You gave me a right hook, remember? I know that you're strong, you just doesn't know how to use that strength."

"You're lying. And even though I did know how to use my strength, I wouldn't be able to hurt a fly. Much less defend myself."

"Soph, you gave me a red cheek for hours. And a scar."

"I did not give you a scar," she protested. Yeah, she did. She just didn't know about it. Until now.

"Feel right here," I told her, showing her a spot on my cheek. She put her thumb up. She felt. She gasped.

"Yes,_ you _gave me that. Believe me, Soph, you're strong. So let me teach you this."

She looked at me, making up her mind. After almost a minute, she nodded and we started walking again.


	6. Starting over

I opened the door quietly, and closed it behind me.

I couldn't sleep for some reason, and wanted some air. We were too many people in one room.

I sat down on the bench outside, looking out over the view.

It wasn't much. A dark parking lot, half filled with cars. A road. It was too cloudy to be able to see stars, or the moon. I actually had a better view on the inside of the room.

But I stayed where I was, looking out over the parking lot.

After maybe ten or fifteen minutes a car pulled into the lot. It was too late to actually check into the motel, so it was someone who had already done that.

I followed the car with my gaze. It was hard to even see the color – that's how dark it was outside.

When I couldn't tell what model it was, I looked at the owner.

It looked to be a guy, but he was too far away to see anything else.

Automatically I slumped further down into my seat, trying to be invisible. I didn't want him to see me.

Unfortunately, he came my way. Wonderful, so he had a room next to ours. Or remotely close, anyway.

I raised my hand to my face, trying to hide as much as possible as I watched the man.

He was pretty tall, but compared to me, everyone is. He looked to be muscular. I looked at the face, and narrowed my eyes to try to see better. It didn't work.

As the man came closer, I couldn't see any better. He just got bigger for every step.

He didn't look at me when he was close enough to see me, and I was relieved by that.

But there was something about him... Maybe the way he walked.

"Dean?" I asked, regretting it as soon as it was out of my mouth. Of course it wasn't him. What was he doing outside of Philadelphia anyway?

But the man did stop in his steps, and turned toward me. Shit, I shouldn't have said anything.

He turned and walked a few steps closer to me, tilting his head to the left.

"Soph? Is that you?" Dean's voice asked from the dark. I let out a breath. It was Dean. I could relax.

"Yeah, it's me. What are you doing here?" I asked as he walked closer, and sat down beside me.

"What do you think I'm doing here? What are you doing here?"

A hunt, of course. Why didn't I think of that? I must be a little tired after all, since my brain wasn't really working like it used to.

"Mom had the splendid idea to drive all the way to Philly, to visit her parents. With our luck, the car broke down. So we had to stop here as the car is... somewhere, being fixed."

"So, everyone's here?"

"Yeah, mom, Rob, Tess, Dave and me."

"And what are you doing out here, in the middle of the night? Alone, I might add."

"Too crowded in there, and I couldn't sleep."

"Why not?" he asked me, and I looked at him.

"Does there have to be a reason?"

"I know you; yes there does."

I sighed, and looked out over the parking lot again. I reached my hand out, and he took it.

"I met someone," I whispered.

"You're scared," he stated, and I nodded. Of course I was scared. The last guy I liked turned out to be... not the one I thought he was.

"He seems great, but..." I looked at Dean again. "What if he's not?"

"He's not going to be like Trent. And that was over a year ago. I thought Trent was behind you."

"Believe me, so did I. But then I met Tyler, and we've been on three dates."

"Three dates?" he asked, clearly not understanding what I meant.

"Three dates means sex," I notified him, and he pursed his lips.

"It does? I didn't know that."

"Because ten minutes of talking and flirting means sex to you, Dean."

He looked at me disapprovingly, and I changed my mind.

"Okay, fifteen then."

He gave me that look again, and I sighed as I turned my head.

"Look... I'm just saying that-"

"You're not ready," he finished the sentence for me.

"No, I'm not. Will I ever be?"

"Of course you will."

"Right now it doesn't feel like that, and what if he breaks up with me?"

"If he breaks up with you for not sleeping with him, I'll break something on him," he promised, and I smiled. I heard the truth in his words, and I knew that he probably would.

"But not all guys are jerks, Soph."

"You're not," I told him, and looked at him again.

"Then you don't want to know what I did before I met you."

"What was her name? And what did you do?"

"Traci. I think. And I might have promised to call her back, even though I won't."

"I take that back. You're a jerk," I told him and heard him laugh. I laughed with him.

"Soph, just don't think about it, okay? If he's the right guy, then he'll wait until you're ready. He won't put pressure on you. And one day, you won't be scared anymore."

"You think?" I asked and he nodded.

"I would like to say 'I know', but I don't. So, yes, I do think that."

I smiled at him and leaned my head against his shoulder.

"I like this version of you," I told him honestly.

"What version of me?"

"The sensitive one. You should bring him out more often."

I hadn't seen this side of him that many times, and it was only when we were alone like this. When Sam or anyone else was around, he put a shield up.

"What if I say you're the only one I can really show him to?"

"Then I'm okay with that, but you should learn to show him to others as well."

"I live with two guys, Soph. One who's overly sensitive sometimes, and one who shuts down completely. Unless I leave them alone for a second, because then it's Hiroshima."

I knew what he meant. Dean was the one who made sure John and Sam didn't fight. That much. All the time. But it happened. And apparently, it could be nasty.

"Did you learn that in History class?" I asked, indicating on the 'Hiroshima' term he used.

"Shut up," he said, sounding serious. But he couldn't completely hide his smile, and a moment later we laughed together.

"Yeah, well, I like this version of you," he said after a moment of silence.

"What version of me?" I asked, wanting to know.

"The one you are right one."

"I'm always like this," I clarified, and he met my eyes.

"I know. And I like her."


	7. Sometimes things change

"I'm coming!" I called out when it knocked on the door for a fifth time. Seriously, who the hell wanted something this late? I mean, four o'clock in the morning, and someone woke me up by knocking on the door?

I pulled a shirt over my head and walked into the hallway where I walked up to the door. I pulled the chain on, and opened the door. I closed the door immediately again and pulled the chain off before I opened the door again.

"What is wrong with you?" I hissed as I grabbed his wrist and dragged him inside. I closed the door and locked it again before I turned to him.

"Hi," he said sheepishly.

"Did you drive here?" I accused as I watched the keys in his hands.

"So what?"

"You're drunk," I hissed back.

"So is Dad," he stated and I walked past him and into the bedroom again. Not that you could call it that. I would rather call it bedroom/living room. I really hated this one-room apartment, and I needed to move. I just didn't have the money to do so.

"I'm calling Sam," I said as I picked up the phone. I could feel Dean's eyes on me as I dialed the number. "I'll tell him to come pick you up."

"He's at Stanford," Dean said the last word sarcastically, and I froze in my movements. I turned the phone off and threw it on the couch.

Sam was at Stanford? When did he go there? He had told me he wanted to go, but I never thought he'd actually do it. And man, I could only imagine the fight it must have caused between Sam and John. And I knew Dean hated to watch them fight. Probably the reason why he was drunk right now. But what was he thinking _driving _here? He could have got caught. Or injured.

"You should sleep," I said, my voice not as accusing anymore. I couldn't be mad at him for probably waking the whole house up. Not because of this. I walked up to him and led him to the bed. I could take the couch tonight. I pulled him down, and he closed his eyes and turned to his side. I took his shoes off and put them in the hall before I walked back to the couch. I lay down, and quickly fell asleep again.

* * *

As I woke up, Dean was still snoring on the bed. He didn't usually snore. I walked up to my closet and found some clothes to put on. Dean was still fast asleep, so I changed in there before I took my phone and walked into the kitchen. I sat down at the table, and dialed Sam's number.

I didn't have to wait long before he picked up.

"Hello?" he answered, and I sighed.

"Is it true?" I asked. He knew it was me.

"I was going to call you today," he explained. "I guess Dean called."

"He didn't call me. He woke me up by banging on the door four am. Drunk. He's a mess, Sam."

"Yeah, well, he made it clear that he didn't want me in his life."

"What are you talking about?" I asked. I knew Dean would never say those words.

"Dad told me not to come back if I walked away, and Dean didn't argue with him."

I didn't know what to say to that, and Sam and I kept talking for almost an hour before he had to go. He had class. I told him I was proud of him, and then he promised he would call me in a few days.

As I rose from the table, I heard noises from the other room, and I walked in there.

Dean was still on the bed, but he was awake. And he looked like he had a massive headache.

I sat down on the floor right beside his head so that our faces were only inches away.

"What were you thinking, Dean? You were drunk, and driving."

"I don't know. I couldn't stand Dad, and this is where I wanted to be."

"You didn't have to drink," I murmured and he sat up.

"Yeah, well, Sam made it clear he didn't want us in his life so..."

I was about to open my mouth and talk, but Dean cut me out.

"I don't want to talk about it."

He moved from the bed and walked into the kitchen. I sighed, but followed him. If he didn't want to talk about, then he didn't. So I wouldn't force him.


	8. This wasn't planned

I know it's late. It's too late for her to be awake.

But I can't help but to drive by her place.

The light was on, so she had to be awake. But it's three am, she shouldn't be awake.

I found a place to park, and glanced at Dad.

He only let me drive because I promised I wouldn't stop. I knew we had to be there tomorrow. And it was a long drive. But he's asleep, and we're driving through Friday Harbor. Well, I was driving through Friday Harbor. Dad was sleeping when I took the ferry. And hopefully he would still be sleeping as we reached the main land again.

And I haven't seen her in like forever. And she's awake.

So I climbed out of the car, telling myself it won't take long. I just want's to see her. Say hi.

I haven't forgotten the code to the door, so I pressed the buttons and opened the door. There was no elevator, so I had to take the stairs up to her floor. It didn't take long, and my legs carried me faster than I thought they would. I realized I'd missed her more than I'd let myself know. Feel.

But I stoped outside her door. Maybe she's not awake. Maybe she just forgot the light on.

I ignored my thoughts, and knocked. Knocking is better than ringing the bell. If she's awake, she'll hear the knock.

And she did.

She didn't look surprised to see me, she just looked nervous. And on some level, she looked worried.

But before I have the chance to think about it, or ask her about it, her arms are around me. She's hugging me like I haven't seen her in years. It hadn't been that long ago.

Something was wrong. But what?

"What are you doing here?" she asked when she let go of me, turned around and walked toward the kitchen. I closed the door behind me and kicked off my shoes, following her. I walked into the kitchen just in time to see her hide something behind her back.

"Passing through, but I saw the lights on and figured you were awake," as I talked, I walked closer to her. I was going to find out what she had behind her back.

"So, what are you doing awake?" I asked, meeting her eyes. Holding her gaze, I reached my arm out and quickly took the piece of paper.

"Dean," she protested, trying to take it back. But I already had it, walking away from her.

"Now, what do we have, a love letter?" I asked her, turning the envelope over so that I could read what it was. But my teasing smile disappeared when I read.

"This is from the hospital. Why do you have a letter from the hospital?"

The letter was opened, so I looked at her, wanting an answer.

"About two weeks ago, I found something."

"You found something? What did you find?" I asked, not understanding her. She only met my gaze, waiting for me to understand.

She found something. What did she find?

I searched her eyes, trying to understand.

She was worried about something. Nervous about something.

I glanced at the letter, searching for an answer.

It just said it was from the hospital, not what department on the hospital.

She found something that she's worried about.

I looked at her again, suddenly understanding.

She _found _something.

"Do you... I mean..." I found myself unable to finish the sentence.

"I don't know. I haven't read it yet."

"Why the hell not?" I wanted to know. Why hadn't she read it?

"I'm scared of finding out," she said, her voice tiny. I walked up to her again, handing the letter to her. She had to read it at some point, so why not do it now? And I wanted to know just as much as she did.

She took the letter from me, taking out the paper inside. But she didn't unfold it. She just looked at it, before she looked at me. She handed it to me again.

"You do it, I can't," she pleaded. I took the letter, unfolding it. I forced myself to look at it, and I had to read it more than twice. It was hard to understand the words.

Soph understood the look on my face, and I wrapped her in my arms again.

"At least it's benign," I whispered over her head. "They can take it out, make it disappear. It's not going to spread."

She didn't answer me, leaning her head against my chest.

"What's going on?" I heard a voice say, and Soph leaned away from me. I turned around, seeing a guy. That must be Tyler. I had never seen him before, but he looked like a decent guy.

"Tyler, this is Dean."

"Dean... you never told me his last name."

Smart girl. Spreading my first name was bad enough, and Soph knew that. Which is why not many knew she was friends with me. Tyler had probably just overheard her talking to me.

"No, I never did. Tyler, go back to bed, and Dean, you can take the couch."

"Actually, Dad and I got somewhere to be tomorrow," I told her and she nodded, understanding. I knew she wanted to know, but it's not like I could tell her about a hunt with her boyfriend next to her.

Tyler waved it off, stumbling into the bedroom again. Too tired to care.

"Does he know?" I asked as soon as he was out of hearing distance.

"No one does," she answered me simply, taking the paper from my hand. She tossed it into a draw, closing it after her.

"Why not?" I asked her. She was close to her family, so why hadn't she told them?

"I didn't know if it was anything, and now when it is, I don't want to worry them. I wouldn't even have told you if you hadn't showed up."

"Soph..."

"Have you talked to Sam lately?" she asked me, ignoring my protest. She knew I didn't want to talk about him, but she changed the subject to him. I hadn't talked to him for three months now.

"Not since he left," was all I said.

"You should call him."

"I don't have his number," I answered simply. It wasn't a lie, but it also wasn't the truth. I could easily find out what his number was, and call him. But when he left for Stanford, he made it very clear that he didn't want to be a part of this life. Or this family.

So why should I call him?

A part of me wanted to, but it was a small part, and I quickly shoved it away.

He obviously didn't want me in his life, so why should I want him in mine?

"Here," Soph said, taking my hand and writing a number on in. "Call him, and tell him I said 'hi'."

I took the pen from her hand, turning her palm my way and wrote my new number on it.

"We changed it today, so I'll have it for a while. Call me if there is_ anything."_

She looked up at me, smiling sadly. She knew I would be here for her – this wasn't something she should go through alone – but I also knew she wouldn't call me. She was strong that way. And stubborn.

"Be careful, and don't you dare get hurt," she said as she followed me to the door.

"I never get hurt," I told her, and she glared at me. Okay, so it happened. A few times... More than I could count.

We said goodbye, and I gave her another hug. And again I told her she should tell her family. She said she'd think about it.

Then she closed the door behind me, and I walked back to the car.

Dad was still asleep, and I took off into the dark night.

The more I drove, the more the number on my hand was itching. It was making itself heard. And seen.

I kept glancing toward it, and I couldn't help it.

I glanced at the number one more time, found a phone and dialed the number.

I didn't care that it was in the middle of the night – closer to morning than midnight, but still.

There was many signals, but eventually someone picked up.

He was tired, and I had woken him up. I didn't care.

"Sam..." I said, unable to finish the sentence. I mean, what should I even say?

I heard noises, and it sounded like he was about to hang up. Seriously?

"Don't hang up."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Look, the only reason I even called is because..." I trailed off, not knowing if I should let him hang up or not.

"What?" he asked after a while of silence, clearly irritated. "You called in the middle of the night just to be quiet?"

"Soph has a tumor."

"She what?" he asked, shocked and surprised.

"I opened the letter, and I can't understand it myself. It's benign, but I mean, it's Soph and she's not supposed to... Anyway, I just thought you wanted to know. She wouldn't have told you herself – hell, she's probably not even going to tell her mom. And you know her as much as I do, so I guessed you wanted to know. Maybe you can convince her to tell her family."

"She has...? Can they take it away?"

"Yeah, they can. So, I'm gonna let you sleep again..." I said, and hung up before he could say anything else.

It was harder to talk to him than I thought it would be.

But now he knew, and Soph wouldn't be alone even if she decided to not tell her family.

She had Sam.

And she had me.

And I would always be there for her.


End file.
